The Surgeon's Christmas Baby. Marin Thomas

wheel, wishing it was her half brother’s neck.

      Yesterday after lunch Luke had left the ranch to attend a Halloween party with friends. He’d promised to be home by dark, but ten o’clock had come and gone and Hannah had paced the kitchen floor, imagining him lying dead in a ditch somewhere—just as she’d found their father two years ago.

      “You could have texted me that you were staying the night at Connor’s.”

      “I left my cell phone at home.”

      On purpose. When their father died, the court had appointed Hannah Luke’s legal guardian—a job she’d gladly accepted. But she hadn’t counted on her then fourteen-year-old brother embarking on a mission to make her life miserable.

      The recent skipping school, drinking and smoking pot had to stop. She’d attributed Luke’s rebellion to grief and in the beginning hadn’t demanded too much of him. Even his teachers had gone easy on him. But two years had passed since their father’s death and Luke’s behavior was getting out of hand. If he didn’t settle down and quit running wild, he’d end up in jail, and then she wouldn’t be able to save his butt.

      “I can’t do this anymore, Luke.”

      “Do what?”

      That he had to ask showed how little he cared about the responsibility resting on her shoulders. “I can’t take care of the ranch and chase after you. It’s time for you to grow up.”

      “Jeez...not another lecture.” He sprawled across the backseat. “You didn’t have to come get me. I could have driven home.”

      If Connor’s mother hadn’t informed Hannah that she and her husband were leaving town, Luke would have remained at his friend’s the entire day and skipped out on doing his chores. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Her brother had turned sixteen five months ago, but his smooth skin and pudgy cheeks reminded her of the little boy who’d followed her everywhere on the ranch. Hannah had been the only one who’d paid attention to him when their father was lost in the bottle or Luke’s mother, Ruth, left on one of her weekend getaways.

      Hannah and Luke had grown even closer after Ruth died in a car accident right before Luke’s tenth birthday. She recalled the afternoon her father broke the news to them—Luke hadn’t shed a tear. Instead, he’d asked Hannah to play a video game with him. She hadn’t been surprised that her brother had turned to her, since Ruth had assigned all the mothering duties to ten-year-old Hannah when she’d brought Luke home from the hospital.

      To be honest, she hadn’t been distraught over Ruth’s death, either. It was hard to shed a tear for the woman who’d caused her parents’ divorce. Hannah hadn’t heard from her mother—not even a birthday card—since the day she’d walked out on her family. Hannah wished she could blame Ruth for her mother abandoning her but that wouldn’t be fair. The sad truth was that all the adults in her and Luke’s life had let them down.

      After their father’s funeral Hannah had discovered how badly he’d mismanaged the ranch. Instead of spending time with Luke, she’d spent days poring over financial records with an accountant at the bank. He’d set up a payment plan with her creditors and she’d been forced to let their ranch hand go. Keeping the business from going under had fallen on her shoulders, but she’d accepted the responsibility, hoping Luke would help out, but like a typical teenager all he cared about was hanging with his friends.

      “How am I supposed to get my car?” he asked.

      “We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” As far as Hannah was concerned, her old Civic could sit on the Henderson property a good long while. Without wheels Luke would be stuck at home and maybe out of sheer boredom he’d do his chores. “How much did you and Connor drink last night?”

      “Enough.”

      She still hadn’t broken the news to her brother that she’d been asked to keep him away from Connor. Mrs. Henderson believed Luke was a bad influence on her son. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

      She couldn’t remember a time her father hadn’t reached for a beer when he walked into the house—morning, noon or night. He’d kept his drinking under control until Ruth died. Hannah wasn’t sure if her father’s depression had been caused by Ruth’s death or learning the girlfriend in the car with her at the time of the accident had been a man named Stan Smith.

      “You can’t keep this up, Luke.” When he remained silent, she said, “You know Dad was an alcoholic. You carry the gene.” If worrying about her brother’s drinking wasn’t enough stress, yesterday afternoon she’d discovered an acre of fence had been torn down and several of their bison had wandered onto the neighbor’s property. Roger Markham hadn’t been pleased when he’d had to send his ranch hands to round up her livestock.

      She’d reported the vandalism to Sheriff Miller, who’d attributed it to a Halloween prank by local kids. He’d promised to notify his deputies to be on the lookout for any troublemakers in the Paradise area. Then he’d suggested that until they caught the culprits, Hannah should take Luke with her when she checked the herd—as if that was going to happen.

      “Not that you care, but some jerk trampled a section of fence and the bison wandered onto the Los Pinos Ranch.” Hannah had insurance to cover the cost of repairing the fence, but the deductible was a thousand dollars. There went her Christmas fund.

      “Who gives a crap about those stupid animals?” The truck hit a bump and he groaned. “Watch your driving.”

      She was tempted to slam on the brakes, put the truck into Reverse and drive back and forth over the pothole until Luke puked. “When we get home, I need you to load the hay bales onto the flatbed.”

      “I’m too tired.”

      If she gripped the wheel any tighter, she’d rip it from the steering column. Hannah had planned to go to college after she’d graduated from high school, but then Ruth had died and her father had sunk into a deep depression and she’d ended up staying put. Even so, she’d never regret spending those last few years with her father. Helping him run the ranch had given her a deeper appreciation for rural life, and now she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Eventually she was confident Luke’s view of the ranch would change, too, and he’d see the value of his inheritance. Right now, she had to worry about weathering this latest storm with him.

      “You know that Dad probably wouldn’t have died that night if he hadn’t been—”

      “Drinking. I know.”

      Hannah didn’t like bringing up their father’s death, but she never wanted Luke to forget. He needed the reminder, especially now when he was experimenting with alcohol and drugs. She didn’t want him to make stupid decisions that would put his life in danger—like going for a horseback ride after drinking a twelve-pack of beer.

      Joe Buck hadn’t ridden far when he’d lost his balance and had fallen off Buster, cracking his head open. By the time Hannah had noticed the horse wandering aimlessly in the ranch yard, it had been too late. She’d found her father’s lifeless body in a ravine behind the house, his hand clutching a beer can.

      “You can take a nap after you load the hay,” she said. The herd should have been fed this morning, but she’d wasted the past two hours fetching Luke.

      “You’re not my mom. You can’t tell me what to do.”

      The jab hurt. She’d been more of a mother to Luke than Ruth ever had. Hannah had been the one to make her brother’s breakfast before school. Not Ruth. Hannah had done the family’s laundry and made sure Luke’s Little League uniform had been ready to wear on Saturday morning. Not Ruth. And when Luke had taken Melissa Walter to the school dance this past spring, Hannah had been the one to purchase a box of condoms and give Luke a safe sex lecture. Not Ruth.

      “You’ve been running wild since Dad died and it’s got to stop. If you’d help out more, we could expand the herd.” And I could keep an eye on you. The thought of something terrible happening to Luke